Questioning
by DixieMame
Summary: 16 of the 100 Challenge. The Guys in White question Freakshow, and learn far more than they expected.


_Yay, another 100 Challenge. I AM working on Cut The Thread, trust me. Right now I'm typing Spectra's witty sex jokes. Feel free to hate me._

_So this was inspired after finally seeing the DP movie with Freakshow. The Introduction with his concern over Lydia got me thinking. Does he hate ghosts,love them, or both?_

_All characters belong to Danny Phantom and Butch Hartman. (And the 'rulers' aren't working for me, dammit, real sorry about that.)_

The white coat looked down at his schedule. Despite his loyalty to his duty, he wasn't exactly prepared for what was next on his list…containing the insane and the dangerous was one thing. Trying to question someone who could control the dead was something else altogether.

Just to check, he looked over to his partner. "Criminal Number Forty A B is secure, correct?"

The other nodded. "Don't worry, he's not going anywhere. We'll just got in there, ask a few questions, report to the superiors, and then forget all about him."

First white coat sincerely doubted he could do that last one.

They approached a large colorless door, greatly barred and encoded with many types of DNA checking devices. After their eyes and fingers were proven positive, the door slowly slid to a side, allowing them entrance. Inside was a heavily padded room, vacant save for a lone figure smack dab in the middle.

His skin was even more pale then the white coats coming to interview him. His mouth was curved in an inhuman manner, and a comical top hat lay beside him. He would have gladly put it on his bald head, but alas, his body was restrained in a highly tight straightjacket. He looked up, hearing the door open. "The Guys In White!" He said, rather cheery. "It's nice to get some company after a while. Let me guess." He tilted his head, pretending to ponder. " You still don't remember that whole incident with the Reality Gauntlet?"

The two men ignored the question. After all, the madman had been blabbering this for a while…a made-up story where a ghost child and he duked it out while bending the very fabric of reality. The idea was laughable. "Listen, Freakshow, we're going to ask you questions, and you're going to answer them. Let's make the process nice and easy, huh?"

The villain leaned back, looking quite relaxed. It seemed he was the one in control there, and he knew it. Not that the Guys in White were intimidated. They always found a way to break such bravado…always. "I feel so flattered." He replied with a chuckle. "Ask away, my dear friends."

The second of the pair pulled his sunglasses down a tad. "How do you control the tattoo paranormal?"

The clever smirk suddenly faltered. "Lydia? You have Lydia?"

The first crossed his arms. "We'll ask the questions here, criminal."

Seeming to ignore that, Freakshow sat up straight. "Where is she? Do you have her contained again!" His voice began to get hysterical.

The two agents exchanged looks. "I thought you said he hated ghosts." The second asked.

Before the first could reply, Freakshow let out an insane squeal of laughter. "So I won't get to see her unless I answer, do I? Should make sense, but then, nothing I ever do is ever makes sense, is it, boys?" Without giving them a moment to respond, he went on in a rapid manner. "Isn't it the strangest thing to despise ghosts with every fiber of your being, yet knowing you would rather end your own life then to be without them? It's like they're the ones with the control over me. Me, the ring leader!"

First leaned toward second. "Should we stop him?"

"I don't think we can." Second muttered.

Freakshow continued to ramble on, his voice growing soft. "But then, isn't that to be expected? I had to grow up in the shadows of the dead…my parents loved ghosts more than their own son…"

_I was born in a desolate town, full of farms and simple village folk. Despite having lived there since the descent of the Mayflower, my family never did fit in. We were seen as outcasts…but I suppose it's reasonable. My mother claimed to be a psychic, always trying to talk to the deceased. I remember that every Sunday, she'd channel the ghost of her mother, and have an ordinary brunch with her. If you find that disturbing, you've got a long way to go, boys._

_My father owned a chain of small supermarkets…innocent on the outside, darkness within. He was always buying books of necromancy, buying into new religions, and creating all sorts of devices in order to restrain spirits. Often our house was littered with the bones of dog, or the walls would be smeared with the blood of the next-door-neighbor's cat. All a part of the strange rituals he'd practice with mother…and make sure to leave me out of._

_To them I was too young, too experienced to deal with the ways of the dark arts. Any bonding attempts with them were always thrown out the window. It was always more important to resurrect some sort of apparition than to spend time with me. It's really no wonder that I began to run away. However, a neighbor would always spot me, and manage to drag me back home._

_A memory has just returned to me…ah, yes, the jockey business. You see, there's a racetrack not too far from where I grew up. I believe I was fifteen at the time when this happened…one of the riders came to my parents, hoping to communicate with his dead elder brother. His brother was always the better rider, and hoped to gain some sort of secret of how to win the upcoming race. Yet the séance was more than he could handle. He screamed at the top of his lungs, calling us demons, and actually hit my mother. My father lost his temper at that point, grabbing a chair and hitting the jockey over the head with it._

_The lad never did get up._

_My father then dissected him, using his parts for more rituals. This actually seemed to make the channeling process easier, and far more effective. So when they used up all of them, they decided to get more. I suggested grave digging, but mother scoffed at me, saying we had no right to defile the dead like that._

_Ah, your eyes are lighting up. Why, yes, my parents were the 'Michigan Murder Couple', the infamous duo that slaughtered dozens in order to talk with the spirits of those they killed. When the police began to catch on, we simply began moving from town to town, and then from state to state. We traveled all over America, never a knowing a night without bloodshed._

_Then came the night that I would never recover from._

_I was twenty-eight, then. Still loathing ghosts, and the parents I traveled with. We were staying in a quaint little town, a perfect suburbia. One day, I noticed new posters had been stuck all over the town. They announced that a circus was coming to town. I was highly intrigued…with all the traveling I had to endure, I'd never been to a circus. Even if it did seem too fluffy and happy for my liking, I bought a ticket, and went to see what the hub-bub was about._

_It was very amusing…I was probably the happiest I'd ever been. Despite all the tricks and acts everywhere, my eyes were glued to the man in the middle…the Ring Master. He was in control, and the others obeyed his every single word. Yet they also seemed to respect him…He was their master, but their companion as well._

_I never had an "I know what I want to be when I grow up!" stage. I had always assumed I'd be raising the dead like my parents, much to my distaste. Yet watching this man lead those lower than him around…I wanted to be like him. I wanted control, and respect, over a captive audience. The very thought made me quiver with excitement._

_Suddenly, the amazing man called out, jarring me from my thoughts. "And now, ladies and gentleman, witness the death-defying talents of the tattooed wonder…she's got more ink than you'll ever find in a pen! Presenting our lovely Lydia!"_

_A spotlight fell on the tightrope, and there was a hushed silence over the crowd. Standing on the rope with a perfect balance was a robed woman. Ever so slowly, she drew back her hood, and pulled the robe apart. She was ten years my junior, at the least. Her skin was as white as milk, her body laced with intricate designs, piercing along her nose and ears, and raven black hair flowing down her shoulders._

_Now it wasn't the ringmaster I couldn't tear my eyes away from…it was this one called Lydia._

_She began to dance along the thin rope, the tiniest move containing alluring grace. The robe dropped onto the ground, showing just how dangerous the height was. I heard mutters of disapproval all around…the way she danced, the way she presented herself, it was taboo in this town. It seemed as if only I knew her for what she was…beautiful._

_I never had a crush, a lingering affection, or even puppy love before that moment. So, seeing as I had never had it before, I had no idea if I felt it then. Either way, she captured my attention, and refused to let go. I'll never forget the moment when her eyes were cast over the section of the audience I was in. I swear our eyes locked._

_The show ended far too early for my liking. I was unable to sneak past the tents and see Lydia, so I began buying tickets for every single show every single day. My father tried to question me where all the money was going, and all I would ever say was 'an escape plan.' Which wasn't really a lie. She was my escape. A living, breathing human who fascinated more than any floating entity ever could._

_On the last day of their performance, I decided to stay out until midnight to try and sneak in. This seemed to be the wise choice, as everyone was sleeping and no one was guarding anything. I quickly managed to find Lydia's trailer, but before I could really go about doing anything, I heard a terrifying scream within. Lydia had never spoken in the acts she was in, yet it could only be her. A male inside was shouting obscenities at her, and from what I could tell, was demanding her to be in his bed._

_As the sounds of beatings continued, the horror finally sunk in. This male voice…it was the Ring Leader. The one I had respected so much, wanted so much to be like, was using his position to hurt Lydia. He was no hero. He had let me down, lied to me, deceived me…the fury of that caused me to yank the door open. I had been right. Lydia was on the floor, covering her head with her hands in a desperate attempt to protect herself. The Ring Leader stood over her, ready to kick her again if she wouldn't comply._

_Growing up, I doubt none of you ever carried a dagger in your pocket. Well, when you are hunted for most of your life, such protection is needed. At this point, I drew out the sharp blade, and lunged for the Ring Leader. I had caught him off guard, so there was no defense as I began to stab. I lost count how many times I had done it after fifteen. Finally, he slumped to the floor, drenched in his own blood. So this was how my parents felt after they took a victim…I had to admit, it was rather…intoxicating, this ecstasy that went through me._

_Lydia's whimpers caught my attention. I dropped the dagger, and looked over at her. She slowly looked up at him, and realized what had happened. Strangely, she didn't fear me, or what I had just done. Instead, she got on her hands and knees, subservient to me. I got down on one knee, and managed to pull her into my arms. She sobbed gently into me, ad I allowed her to cry all she needed._

_It turned out that the Ring Leader had been abusing her for years. I must say, I was awfully proud of myself. I appeared to be her knight in shining armor. I took her home with me, expecting the worse from my parents. However, it was quite the opposite. They accepted her with open arms, and were proud of my actions. She didn't seem to mind our ways, happy to be with me. The following years were far more bearable, with my beautiful Lydia at my side._

_I should have realized that fate would not let me have this happiness._

_As rich as my father was, he couldn't hold a business with all the moving we did. We eventually ran out of money. We began to resort to stealing just to survive. Even then, this was not enough. Around this time, father also began creating a strange red orb. He claimed it would be able to control ghosts, but I didn't take him too seriously._

_Age thirty-five…I had managed to nab several loafs of bread, and a gallon of milk. I walked home, wondering if I could get away with running away with Lydia. Maybe I could get a real job, and provide her with the life she deserved. I opened the door to my home, expecting the normal routine._

_Instead, I found Lydia on the floor, her stomach cut out like a fish._

_My parents hovered over her, drooling with excitement. "We can turn her into a ghost." They excitedly told me. "She can steal for us. She'll be the perfect thief!"_

_Sadly, dear boys, my memory gets foggy at this point. All I know is that I heard them talking, and then the next thing I knew, they were on the floor in a similar fashion to Lydia. I found it terribly funny how much they begged to stay alive, despite their fascination with the dead._

_After I saw the color drain out of their faces, it hit me. I was free. I could do whatever I wished now. Strangely, despite my hatred for them, I found myself wanting to do what my parents did. Control ghosts. I had full permission to do the rituals, now that they were dead. Yet I was inexperienced after all…it took me many years of research to even see a spirit._

_I took my father's orb, and formed it into a staff. It would be my main tool for this new life. Like my old life, I threw away my old name, calling myself Freakshow. I began to recruit other dark souls like myself, those who believed in ghosts and enjoyed the life of the macabre. We formed an entertainment group…Circus Gothica._

_It was actually two years ago when I finally got the help I desired._

_During a stay at Salem, I discovered I could create a sort of portal to the other side, the Ghost Zone, as it were. It wouldn't last long, but it was worth a shot. When midnight chimed, I stabbed my staff into the ground, and repeated a haunting mantra over and over. Like a flash of lightning, the ground cracked open, and thousands of green blobs shot out. It was a little too much for me to handle. I withdrew the staff, and the crack closed, but the ghosts remained. It appeared I was their target. They formed an emerald tornado around me, screaming at the top of their lungs. I raised my staff high, focusing my energy into the red orb. This seemed to scare a large number of the spirits, and there was a sudden scatter, with only a few remaining._

_They were under my complete control…I could make them do anything I pleased! Then my eyes rested on the last one remaining._

_It was Lydia!_

_Her skin was now a light jade, but the tattoos had remained. Her eyes were deep red, and soulless, and her head had a line of spikes. I suppose I should have been relieved…yet I found myself staring at her not with a gaze of love, but with envy. She didn't stand but float! She could go through walls, turn invisible, posses people, and attack others with her inks! She had more power and control than I could ever have! It reminded me why I hated ghosts!_

_My one true love was turned into the very thing I hated most! I screamed, throwing my staff away. How could fate be this unkind! Had it not done enough for me! I would have rather never seen her again, then to see her this way! I fell to my knees, endlessly screaming into the night. She was superior! I was the Ring Leader! I was supposed to be the one better than the others!_

_…Oh, my, did I spit on you two? Suppose the anger got the best of me. My apologies._

_In the middle of my ranting, I had believed all of the ghosts, including Lydia, to be under my control. This meant they wouldn't even move without my say-so, so they all just floated there, staring at me. However, I suddenly felt arms linked around my neck. To my surprise, Lydia was holding me, her eyes creased with concern. Somehow, I had failed to put her under my spell._

_This wouldn't cease my anger, not just yet, and she could tell. She let go of me, and for the second time with me, she went on her hands and knees, submissive to me. Even in the afterlife, she was eternally loyal to me, no matter how I treated her. She was still mine…she always would be._

_I put the ghosts into the circus, and we traveled and planned for our next destination…Amityville._

"…But you know all about that." Freakshow chuckled. "Does that answer all your questions?"

It took a few moments for the Guys In White to fully register he as done. The first shook his head, coming out of his stupor. "Well…er…I suppose so. For now. Thank you for your cooperation."

"Now, will you be so kind as to answer me a question?" Freakshow raised his eyebrows. The two agents looked at each other, and shrugged. The villain went on. "Do you, or do you not, have Lydia?"

The second one saw no harm in replying. "We don't have it." Satisfied, he left with his partner, pushing certain buttons to make the door close after them.

Freakshow laid back, enough so that he was on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. A few moments passed before he talked, perhaps to no one. "Where are you?" He hissed. "You can go through walls, you can bypass anything…why aren't you saving your master!" He screamed. "You ghosts are so selfish! I brought you back here, you owe me! I own you! You think you're so high and mighty! I'm superior, you hear me! I'm the better one! I'm the Ring Leader! I am Freakshow!"

_Oh, god, Lydia, don't leave me alone._

End.


End file.
